


Creepy Ex Boyfriend

by beautyinsteadofashes



Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Withdrawal, Brother's Friend Trope, Childhood Friends, Exes, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Josh Wilson's OC is in Flashback, M/M, Multi, Other, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, The Underage warning is for flashback but both characters are underage, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 00:23:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13558746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautyinsteadofashes/pseuds/beautyinsteadofashes
Summary: A spinoff that will refer back to the West Covina gang from time to time of Greg at Emory. Modelled on Season One of the show and keeping up with canon as it develops. Greg runs into an old flame at Emory and isn't sure now is really the best time to fall back into old patterns given he's meant to be a changed man and staying sober and sane. Rebecca is always there in the back of his mind, and him in hers in the months following his departure and months leading up to her wedding. How does one move on and building something healthier from the rubble? And once that built if they reconnect how do they fight the urge to not burnt it all down in flame. Told through a series of flashbacks, Emory classes, West Covina emails, and musical numbers it not only explore Greg's new life in Atlanta but his and WhiJo's past in West Covina through the memories of Wilson's childhood friend.  This fic was inspired by the events of 3x04 and so, sadly, that whole Grebecca disaster will be canon.





	Creepy Ex Boyfriend

**Author's Note:**

> I want this to operate kind of as a spinoff, so the first chapter will mimic the pilot and the story will have some musical elements be it reprises from CEXG or other musical numbers that will be more genuine than satirical (a lot of Kerrigan, Jason Robert Brown, and that kind of style).  
> 
> I hope you enjoy it and the past romances I have set up for Josh and Greg. Greg/Rebecca and Josh/Daryll will still get fully addressed though and might be endgame instead. Who knows?
> 
> I’ll check back in with the West Covina lot as well rather than it being a straight Emory fic.
> 
> I read that Rebecca is 28 so that’s the ages I’ve used for Greg and his year group
> 
> Just a heads up I’ll be dealing with an age difference in this fic. Mistakes will be made but the problematic elements never condoned. The point is them to learn from it like Rebecca did,
> 
> Please give whatever criticism you want
> 
> Thank you.

 

**_1          "Who Knew that Cass Lived Here!?"    (POST 2x04)_ **

_10 YEARS AGO_

_[ Last Week’s Alcohol – by Kerrigan and Lowdermilk (performed by Andy Mientus)]_

[ _https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=64Y6NvTuJiw_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=64Y6NvTuJiw)

The end of Summer break and his birthday was right around the corner about to ruin everything. Ok usually he hated birthdays regardless. Big whoop! Dad’ll lend him a beer and get them takeout but turning eighteen…being the oldest in his year…changed things. He felt old. He felt trapped and desperate dying in this stagnant place. West Covina never changed It never grew, it swallowed you whole and sucked the life right out of you. Why was Jack Kelly so eager to go West anyway? There was nothing here but dust and palm trees?! And her.

He had sprung himself quite the trap with that one. Working along side her in the shop. Letting her weasel her way closer and closer each day. I mean she had always been around. WhiJo’s best friend and Brandon’s little sister. This was the wrong to time to complicate things and once he turned eighteen…Nothing could happen. She was too young and too messy, and he hated it and he wanted out and he couldn’t breathe without a thought of her slipping into his mind. With her wretched little face and her stupid little smile and the late nights with her picking at her black painted nails and the soaking in the cool concrete of the skate park. How had this happened?

 

Best not to think about it. Best to just focus on the party. Drinking, drinking he could. Greg moved through the swirling crowd in a haze of sweat and light. A film of dust and smoke distorted the colours in the air as a red cup was clenched tightly in a white knuckled fist.

_“Happy drunk, Grinding to a German techno beat. Shots all around. I’m drafting you a text. I’m typing sorry. I’m sleepy. Another night. Sad face ox.”_ He read the text back over again eying the kiss hug at the end feeling the chasm of life split between them. A solid fifteen and almost eighteen sounded like nothing. Two years who cares but once it became three? It wasn’t like she was a giggly girl a vapid airhead that fell at the first sign of affection she was his friend, his buddy, she was the goth kid that White Josh dragged around and forced to make friends, and the new kid from when they were ten and the girl who stayed by WhiJo’s side as he came out and part of their crew when The Pretty Three were off parting and he, WhiJo and her all stayed home, bitter. She wasn’t a kid…but she wasn’t a senior either and it was putting him in a tailspin. He deleted the text and started again.

_“Vodka flows into any mixer you can find. Miniskirts shift. I see the lift of her ass. My pocket vibrates._

_I won’t look. It’s you again...And you’re not here.”_ Someone his age would be the wiser option, the easier option, back to delusional Ashley Pratt land would be better than this. Better than fear and responsibility. God! And maturity… gross.

With a full cup now he’s trying to dance, Bean’s house groans against the vibrations thudding rhythmically. He’s trying to keep up appearances and focus on the girls at hand and not the kiss in the storeroom and the unclear boundaries, unclear feelings, unclear meanings…then lips press to his ear with a murmured breath hot against his skin. _“She makes a pass. Screw the phone. Screw you and all your stupid rules. Are you alone? Are you dancing by yourself? Cuz I’m out here. Alive here. We’re dancing here…Chugging from the bottom shelf.”_

This was utter bullshit, sitting here with one of the hottest girls he’s ever seen (probably a college girl) practically in his lap and he’s scared for her. Worried about her and where she’s been. Is she partying tonight? Is she safe? Is she getting drunk? Did the cops bust them yet? Is Brandon gonna kick her ass?  “ _This is how it feels to fall in love…_ _This is how it feels to fall...The weakness, the sadness,_ _The sirens, the madness._ _The pounding in your chest…Like you’re racing the streets in an ambulance…_ _I’m watching you._ _I’m watching me._ _I’m watching us fall._ _Fall.”_

 

And just like that she’s everywhere! One little slip, one little thought and suddenly he’s tossed into delusion where every laugh is hers and every flick of black hair must be hiding her face. Girls duck beneath bangs and he watches them only for the resemblance to fade away when they lift their heads. Any girl in jeans has got to be her! Who else wouldn’t come in a dress? And Greg swears he starts to go mad. “ _Do I see you standing across the crowded room?_ _Like some montage or like someone’s fucking dream,_ _And I see you. In her face._ _In every face._ _Is that your scheme?..._ _I’m watching you._ _I’m watching me._ _I’m watching us…”_

 

“I’m going to get some air!” At last he breaks through that wall of silence and resurfaces to reality from imagination. He’s angry at her for it, for how much he’s losing time and missing out on the best of this party. She’s stealing the one thing he’s good at. She’s ruining it and corrupting and making it far less enjoyable than it ever used to be. How did he turn this off? Where was the reset button? He was done with feeling!

 

“What?!” the blonde shouted back over the music and leaned closer cupping his mouth.

   
“I’ll be outside!” He was dying here!

 

“Oh! Ok!” She shrugged

 

The girl at the party trailed after him as he tossed away his plastic cup.  “ _I’m so sick of parties._

 _I’m so sick of being drunk. I hold my breath. Lips brush against my ear. But I don’t feel them. Or know them. I just know you… And you’re not here! Yeah, it might be the Smirnoff or all the Natty light. Yes, it is weak. But there’s nothing left to lose. So, call me right now and I’ll cave. I’ll answer you…”_ His phone, large as a brick turns in his hands, swirls in his fingers, again and again hoping for that light to blind him right in face. Just something anything even a ‘Hey’ would suffice…but nothing _.  “and blame the booze.”_

Sighing the girl’s lips have found his neck and she shoves her off and finds a bench in the backyard for a moment he just sits and stares…What was he thinking? Whatever had happened was just a moment of madness. It didn’t mean anything…and what were they even doing here? Drinking and partying as if that wasn’t all these people had done all summer break! And people were pissing in pot plants and smashing vases and running wild with unwound cassettes tapes. Black ribbon billowing in the wind like some cheap ass streamer. This was stupid _._ West Covina was stupid. _“Time is passing but we’re still drinking. Life is passing us by, “We’re drinking last week’s alcohol’_

With a groan he pushes up off the bench and weaves his way back through the crushing crowd inside and out front where it’s nothing but the same but at least he doesn’t feel trapped. At least out here he can breathe…and there she is _. A Nightmare made real. “House parties are proof the world runs to chaos. I go outside and that’s when I see you. And you say….”_ The note trails off as the fantasy dies for a moment and they both step into reality awkwardly fiddling with the cuffs of their sleeves and the seams of their jeans as eyes wander the grass and lips pressed down beneath teeth. There’s no easy way to say this. No simple way to get passed the nerves and pressure and distress they’re both in…except to press on.

 

She reads the apology in his eyes before it even leaves his mouth. The distance. The silence. She noticed, and she hated it. He can see that. He can feel that but instead she’s the one apologizing? That can’t be right?!

 

She’s stepping closer her tiny little angry frame melting before him with eyes wide open. Her steps and words are weighed and measured exposing the nights on end that she’d thought this through…She’s in her comfiest clothes...and she’s sober…She came straight here?

_“Don’t talk.”_ A finger shoots up in the air and his confusion moulds into a smirk. There she is. Still beneath there despite everything changing. Still bossy and sure of herself as always. A deep breath seems to shake the both of them, seems to ready them for whatever was coming. Chipped nails brush through her fringe before she finally, finally, speaks. _“I’m sorry. I’m scared of this.”_

Little doe eyes so unlike hers rise to his warm and bright. He can’t help but frown, can’t help but shy away until she groaned at that sympathy. She didn’t want puppy eyes and gentle breathes she wanted these blasted feelings to be gone just as much as he did.

 

 “Yeah?” he nodded softly as he drew closer, pretending to mull it over in his mind as if there was some proposition in the fact that she was here, and there was, but he liked to pretend he had the power. That she was making some big romantic gesture and he could taunt her with that embarrassment for a while.

 

Shrugging Greg played it off as a casual joke _“Well, I’m scared too.”_

Glaring at his inability to take anything seriously and his love of stringing her out to dry she shoves him and a laugh breaks the haunting silence. With a sigh and a roll of her eyes she simply tugged him down to her lips and sank into that kiss. Right there before the entire world, although most were too drunk to care, she had stepped out onto the limb for him. This is different from that quick cautious peck, it’s firm and certain, it’s warm and welcoming and then he’s kissing her back and pulling her in tight until… out of breath she mimicked his refrain in a soft private voice, fighting a brilliant beam _.  “This is how it feels to fall in love. This is how it feels to fall. The weakness, the sadness, The sirens, the madness. The pounding in your chest, like you’re racing the streets in an ambulance. I’m watching you. I’m watching me. I’m watching us fall.”_

Then he’s laughing, amazed at it all…baffled at her.

And she’s smiling

 

 

PRESENT:

With the jolt of a bus and the hiss of breaks Greg is dropped back into life with a startling thud and wakes up from a nap to that harsh reality. If he could slip beneath the surface back down into that lovely dream and conjure it up again, remember just the way she had been with every little detail maybe he would get the best sleep he had in weeks. But no instead here he was at Emory. Emory the place of dreams, the Harvard of the South and It was amazing…there was no questioning that but... for those of us with DUIs it meant you were slaves to the bus schedule and that meant getting up far earlier than was humanly possible.

 

“The things we do for love…” he scoffed beneath his breath at his own stupid dreams that had brought him here in way over his head.  “Right, back to it…” Groaning Greg got up from his seat.

 

 _He was..._ __  
Working hard at a dead-end job  
Making dough but it made him blue  
One day he was drinking a lot  
And so he decided to move to  
  
Atlanta, Georgia  
Brand-new pals and new career

_It turns out to be where Cass lives_

_But she can’t know I’m here!_

__  
He’s the creepy ex-boyfriend!  
The situation was a lot more complicated than that!  
C-R-E-E-P-Y  
OK, we GET it!  
  
Creepy Ex-Boyfriend!

 

 

It’s strange to feel the seasons move around him. Too long in California had numbed him to the heat. He could wear whatever he wanted, any layers, as many layers and still feel cool and clean...but the cold?

 

Moving out early to get a place set up before the semester started and make friends had been a good move but just as he was getting used to Georgia’s form of Summer, Fall set in. The leaves are changing and the temperatures dropping, and he owns too many black t-shirts. Weeks had blended together until finally he’s found his pace, and his crew and he’s used to the rush of each day. Class pressed hard up against work, which blended into A.A, which turned into banging on the wall when Mike and his girlfriend wouldn’t shut up, Study, Sleep, Repeat.

 

It’s not the whirlwind romance of self-discovery he had been promised. Not yet at least. But he can handle it. Exams could be a different story…he hasn’t studied in so long what If he’s forgotten how? In the mean time he’s soaking up all he can and loving every minute of it. The taste of freedom, the sound of clicking laptop keys buzzing around him, the smell smoke wrapped in the fresh air and battling against the chill…it all brings him to life and he savours it all in a way he wouldn’t have six years ago. He made it. He’s got his second chance and his lease on life and…it was going to be so much work! Community College and night classes in Covina hadn’t really prepared him for how full on postgrad would be?

 

Better that than time to stop and breathe. Better days crammed full of life and luxury then fingers itching for a cool class or thoughts slipping to a soft brown curl or a hot California breeze. Days blurring together was a blessing in those first months, they numbed the longing to turn back and the loneliness in this empty new place. A clean opening playing field with so many new friendships to made and yet the insecurity of no old ones to fall back on…but it was getting the hang of it. He felt like life had started over at 28 too old to not be a man but too young that mature students in his class still looked at him like a child.

 

He was glad for that. He had been dreading the shinning bright eyes of young people and newbies and how they’d all turn on in him contempt for making it too this stage of life so late. That hadn’t been the case at all. His class was a melting pot of all different, ages, colours and creeds from people straight of college to old retirees now retraining to be self-employed. He no longer stuck out, washed up and worn out, but disappeared right into the crowd. As if he no one would notice if he went missing and while the whole point of coming here had been to make something of himself, coming from such a small place with so many beady eyes that anonymity at long last was a cool relief.

 

Making friends was a little more difficult without drinking. His sponsor’s contact was great, but it’d be nice to have friends, you know, outside of those addicted to alcohol? He tried here and there for the past couple of months. He’d latch onto one group of friends and then they were too young and fast! So fast! He was such an old man!

 

Then an older group of middle aged men, who…obviously he should’ve seen this coming...studied at sports bars and that was him done! It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle it. Socializing with casual drinkers and chatting away but…his sobriety still felt so fresh and delicate he didn’t want to risk It and people in the grips of their love of liquor often couldn’t really get his need to step back anyway and the team at the centre had said that that was important…Surrounding yourself in understanding and all that wishy washy deep and meaningful feeling shit.

 

 

He needed that network, he needed to feel at home and settled…but three months was too quick a time. He should try to remember that…but it didn’t mean he wasn’t impatient.

 

He had made one friend, went by Gallagher, built like a house and with the voice of an old jock but the sobriety of a man banned for steroids. Oasis references and slighting jokes went right over his head, but he was loyal, and they were the back of the class kids together. The Barney to his Ted. He’d always pegged himself as more of a Marshall? Shaking up with Rhett probably wasn’t the best course of action where his education was concerned but he was pretty sure he could keep up.

 

However, it was that kind of thought that got him into what was about to happen next. Another mess of Rhett’s creation, sober thank goodness, but still he could be just reckless and humiliating.

 

“Oo look new chic!” jeered a little lecherously gnawing on the end of his pencil as Greg leaned over to try and follow his gaze through the sea of students while keeping tabs on the monotone ramblings of Professor Gervais.

 

“What? Where?”

 

The lecture dulled into the back of his mind as the door screeched and then was hurriedly pulled shut with a nod of an apology. There was no duck of the head, no blush and awkward gaze away from the lecture just a soft smile and a slow walk without a hint of rush.

 

“Old enough to not jump at the first sign of trouble, I’ve seen kids hide out in the hall for being even a second late.”

 

“Yeah, might be a contender then…” Greg murmured watching the swing of her satchel draped over on shoulder and the bounce of red tight ringlets as she effortlessly seemed to glide to her seat and slip right into rhythm and keep up with notes. She had an air indifference and yet organized sophistication he envied just a little. 

 

“Oh yeah!” Gallagher received a whack for his obvious insinuation before Greg’s voice dropped to a whisper.

 

“Not that you bored househusband, we need more friends”

 

“Right…”

 

As class dragged on his eyes flicked to her every now and then. It wasn’t a compulsion, he told himself, just a careful calculation in preparation to talk to her after class. He’d invite her to their study group…which he just invented and then they would at least be a crowd of three rather than a sorry two. For that conversation he needed to study her, to understand what category to put her in. Was she older than she looked a middle-aged woman that would turn her nose up at them? Was she younger than she looked and would dismiss them with just a scoff and a look at the two old men? She studied hard that much was clear. Her pen sped smoothly across each page and her head slipped down and up routinely from professor to page soaking in every word. Perhaps she was too far out of their league.

 

Whatever content he was supposed to be learning that day was completely melting away in his coffee-less mind and fell deaf on ringing ears as his eyes kept wondering to that patch of red hair. The back of her head wasn’t much to go off, but he felt this urgent need to understand her. To analyse her and pick her apart. It didn’t go unnoticed.

 

The moment the class ended Gallagher was shoving him down the stairs anxious that any minute she would be packed up and fly away. She was just the kind of cool, casual but smart girl Gallagher wanted on his side as the slacker that he was, and he was convinced the Greg already had a crush on here…. Which he didn’t.

 

Serrano turned back at the last minute, sent running scared like a school boy. “I’m not doing it! You do it!” He scolded Gallagher under his breathe as his flannel shirt whipped around.

 

“Don’t blow this for use, mate, I need that grade!” The taller man stared him down and Greg wasn’t sure why this whole situation put knots in his stomach. He felt twelve again

 

“Yeah but she’s…” his eyes searched Gallagher’s shoes for the right words.

 

“Coming! Shit, she’s coming!’ Gallagher quickly did his worst at acting natural as Greg screwed up his face and started to turn, what did he mean she was-

 

“Greg Serrano as I live and breathe!” His brows furrowed at first as she breezed right over to them with an air of familiarity. Her body looked warm and relaxed and her eyes bright and searching his for a recognition he couldn’t give. What in god’s name had Rhett done? This was all some kind of- Then with a glimpse of her tattooed wrist…it clicked: Cass

 

“Cassie O'Donohue! Have mercy!” Great, that’s the first thing you say to her after almost a decade, nice one Serrano. He pulls her into a hug to hide his gobsmacked face. Of course, it’s her, she’s still the same, long elegant hands, tiny little frame and yet the black and the rust has been stripped away and she’s fresh and warm and clean. Pulling back, he holds out her hands to glance her over amazed. “Look at you! My God…your hair!”

 

“Come on Serrano, you remember my hair! I only decided to dye it in eight grade!” she shoved at him playfully with those same bright eyes and let his hands slip free. Her voice is muddy and tainted a muddle accent that slips and swerves, cracks and blurs, an Irish canvas streaked with LA. That tattooed word Trouble and the date inscribed beneath it stared back at him from the black markings of her wrist, warning and accusing all at once. Those thick black carvings are the only evidence that some semblance of that goth girl remained, the rest is gone…instead she’s…radiant.

 

“Still you stuck solid to that look for a long time…since when are you doing a MBA?” Gallagher reads the scenes and pats Greg on the back as a quick silent farewell. Cass too gives a polite wave at the stranger.

 

“Since I'm starting up my own practice, See.” She’s bubbling and confident and digging through her bag for a business card before presenting it to him with a proud beam. “I’m normally in nights though but I had some free time today…”

 

“Wow. Physio? How'd you manage those grades?” He teases feeling the moment quieten from the gush of reunion to the comfort of the old days. She’s rolling her eyes again fixing the strap of her white wife beater and swatting at him through empty air.

 

“It's funny what you can get done without distracting boys around” she fixes him with a look, fighting a beam.

 

“Oh Yeah?” He shoots back not missing a beat and for a moment she stumbles.

 

“You’re only making it out here, now, hotshot, what happened?” her arms folds under her chest and she’s cocking her head to listen. The class has already half filtered out around them as their blocking the aisle and there’s a sense of urgency that this conversation will have to end when the last of them are gone.

 

“Life, really” he mumbled with a shrug feeling the weight of all that wasted time and she nudges him trying to bring back that smile.

 

“I told you that That Covina was a death trap!”

 

“Dad got worse” Those three words cut through the swirling familiarity of the moment. The teasing and the taunting and the light is stripped away and their dropped into a strange old intimacy and a stark reality. Her brows shoot up for a moment before she nods softly eyes drifting away. Her voice slips to a soft tone he half remembers.

 

“Ah....jinx!” a hand waved between them as she adjusted her strap with downcast eyes “Mum’s Huntington’s finally kicked in so yay….” She drawled “Moving back home!”

 

A soft silence slips in as the sink into that solemnity, let it wash in and wave between them. An ache is rattling in their chest and illuminating both their eyes as the dance over the other’s closed off and vulnerable and open frames. The information is shared the bond is stitched back into place and yet it’s unnerving and embarrassing to occupy such a familiar intimate space again.

 

“So, this is where you ran off to...” He murmurs, cursing that husk in his voice for dredging it all up again. This was meant to be a happy moment, easy and safe.

 

“Greg...” she starts gently reaching for his chest, but he catches the hand and lets it fall away. Her eyes sink to the ground, clean pink nails brushing through a thick head of ginger hair. And that’s It. That’s long enough for wallowing. Greg’s back, his forcing a pep and tossing aside that quiet moment.

 

“Look this is crazy but...”

 

“Don’t….” Big brown eyes are watching his cautiously while he’s bright and beaming. She’s something safe, something familiar and welcoming amid this crazy town and rushing life. If he could just grab onto her and keep that feeling maybe this place would start to feel like home.

 

“Hey what are you doing later?” his arms are folded, and his fingers brush over his mouth, toning it down, keeping it calm and casual…no pressure...but she’s pulling away.

 

“I don't know...”

 

“Please!” he cracks a little for a moment feeling an uncharacteristic desperation that reminds him all too much of Rebecca. “Look Cass…” he takes a deep breath slipping back into what felt more like himself. Nonchalant and Self-deprecating “We could grab a Coke or a bite to eat or...I don't know what sober people drink…” He waves it off and her eyes flick up to him at long last. He’s made. She knows he’s sober and that somehow leaves him feeling a little exposed considering how things had been left between them. “It’s just me. It’ll be fine” Even though he knew full well that ‘it being him’ was the very problem

 

“WhiJo mentioned you were clean...” she contemplates for a moments eyes sweeping over him before smirking softly as rambles and rants “Dinner, Greg,” she nods softly with a flicker of a tease in her voice “Grownups do dinner. “

 

“Dinner it is...It was really great seeing you.” He grips her by the shoulders as a farewell before racing after Gallagher.

 

“You too” she breathes softly, watching that stupid little ass disappear out the door, before turning back to badger the professor with questions.


End file.
